Rehabilitation
by FancyToad
Summary: A different take on The Joker and Harleen's first sessions, as well as how the dull Doc Harl became the Joker's girl. Insaity is sanity. This is meant to be set in Nolanverse.  R&R! Might be M later?
1. Welcome to Arkham

Arkham was dark. Harleen had heard rumors about the notorious place, but she'd never been there. The Metropolis phsyc ward was so much more like a hospital than this. Arkham, despite what the doctors there believed, was a prison. The brick walls and gargoyles perched on every corner were too ominous for any normal rehabilitation center. Baby blue eyes scanned the lobby and she saw the large, vault-like door she'd be entering every day for the remainder of her career. Arkham offered many opportunities that Metropolis could never even imagine. Harleen had her degree in the Mindset of criminals, and weeks' worth of study of every patient there, currently. A melancholy woman voice caught her by surprise and she flinched slightly when it sounded. "Doctor Quinnzel. I'm Joan Leland, we talked on the phone."

Harleen turned to face the doctor, a polite smile on her face. She extended a hand to shake Joan's. "Good to meet you, Doctor Leland." she said, taking another look around the main corridor of the building. Despite her collected outward appearance, her mind was tingling with excitement. She'd obviously studied the kind of people who ended up in Arkham; the insane, quirky criminals she'd soon be working with. Interesting people; People she could actually work with.

She was soon brought back to reality when she heard Joan's voice again. "If you'll follow me, please." She quietly followed, practicing her new voice over and over in her head. In her line of work, she couldn't use her everyday street voice. She'd been taught to throw her voice and become 'the voice of reason' as her books had called it. Harleen knew she had a very peculiar voice (one which was sure to attract unwanted attention) and it was amazing how different her two sides were.

Doctor Leland opened the vault and the two stepped into the elevator behind it. Harleen saw a few guards shut the vault door, and it locked with a metallic 'clang'. Her stomach gave a lurch as they began down into the underground cell block. When the doors opened, she faced a long hallway of padded cell doors. The pain in her stomach melted into anxiety, but she swallowed her nervousness.

She looked around the hallway, eyes landing on each cell in turn as she examined the surroundings. "It's very bleak." she muttered matter-of-factly.

Joan laughed faintly. "Yes. It must be. You're aware of the colorful people we have here in Arkham." They reached the end of the corridor where guards checked their ID tags. "We don't want them reverting to their old ways... a hard dose of reality is what we shoot for here."

"Well you certainly haven't failed there."

The tour continued for a good hour or so more, and Harleen was eventually shown to her office. It was small and poorly lit, but it had a desk and computer so... it was sufficient.

Harleen soon became aware of a loud siren coming from the upper floors. Joan Leland snapped her head around to look. "Come along; there's a patient being brought in. Perhaps this will give you a good idea of what goes on here." Joan left the room quickly, with Harleen in tow.

They reached the sight of the commotion, and both fought to get to the front of the group. Harleen's vision was blocked by a large group of doctors trying to make their way in the same direction, towards the criminal in question what possibly sounded like reporters. In the excitement, she felt Joan's grip on her wrist loosen and eventually completely release her, at which point Harleen wove through the crowd to the front, attempting to get a better look at what was happening.

The doctors in the front of the crowd didn't dare go interfere with the Dark Knight as he slammed the Joker against the wall. The pale faced clown's laughter increased with each punch the Batman swung. The two were both battered and bleeding badly, but the Joker found a way to laugh through it all. Batman tossed him to the ground, roaring.

"Stop laughing!"

The man's maniacal laughter died down to a throaty giggle, and he looked up. "Make me, batsy. We all know you want to... but, even after all I've done, you still won't break that one rule, will you?"

The Batman went to kick the clown, but was stopped by a guard. The Batman was gone as quickly as Harleen had seen him. What had made him so angry? The entire crowd seemed to know, considering they hadn't stopped him.

Harleen curled her hand up against her chin, biting her lip nervously. Shouldn't a man like that be locked up as well? She looked down at the man who would actually be locked up, eyes widening at him. His face was heavily painted, white with clown-like details, and he was giggling insanely. She looked around at the other doctors, who seemed unexcited by such an interesting patient. Now this was someone she could work with.

"What happened? Why didn't anyone stop him from hurting a patient? That can't be legal." Harleen asked Joan, watching as the man was led away to the cell blocks.

Doctor Leland looked at her and sighed. "Batman is not legally able to do this but... I don't know anyone who can stop him. And he felt it was justifiable, considering what's happened."

"And that would be?"

"The Joker killed Robin earlier today... well, yesterday... they couldn't tell by the body." The crowd had begun to disperse, everyone glad that the infamous Joker was once again behind bars.

Harleen turned to follow Joan, still confused. "Who is Robin?" she asked. "And this Batman guy, for that matter." By what she said, it seemed this Batman was able to do whatever he pleased...that was hardly fair. If he was doing something illegal, he should also be put behind bars, motivation or not. That's what she thought, anyways.

"They're the local vigilantes... well, now it's just Batman... But they're the equivalent of your Metropolis' Superman. I have to go... We'll have your assignments ready in the morning... for now, why don't you go ahead and get your things set up in your office." Without waiting for a response, Joan rushed off to help the others restrain the still fighting Joker.


	2. Taking Baby Steps

She'd hardly slept last night. She was so sure she'd get an interesting patient like Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, or perhaps The Joker. When she parked her car and took the elevator down to her office to find that file on her desk, she was so sure she'd find a name she recognized from magazine covers and newspapers... and then, she didn't.

Baby Doll? They'd given her, Doctor Harleen Quinnzel, an amateur's project? They couldn't be serious.

This was exactly why Harleen Quinnzel had decided to change the matter. After her first session, of course. Perhaps Baby Doll would resurrect Harleen's interest in the case...if there had been any to begin with.

Harleen sat down in a big chair in the middle of the dark room, her patient across from her. "So what exactly led you to criminal actions, Miss Doll?" she asked, clipboard in hand.

The woman sat across from Harleen, pouting. She looked absolutely like a young child, but her voice was that of a woman. She crossed her arms and grinned. "What do you think led me to 'criminal actions', Miss Quinnzel?" She raised an eyebrow. Harleen stared in silence for a moment before nervously scrawling something down on her clip board.

"You really don't want to be here, do you doctor?" Baby Doll asked, handcuffed arms resting on the table they sat across each other from. "I mean... come on; everyone knows you don't ask things like that... You're just trying to get this over with." Harleen froze with eyes wide. These patients were a lot smarter than the papers gave them credit for... it was no wonder the public feared them enough to lock them away in Arkham.

However, she soon returned to her calm and collected demeanor, looking down at her clipboard. "You didn't answer my question, Miss Doll." she said flatly. Who was this woman to analyze her? Harleen was the doctor here, so she'd be asking all of the questions.

Baby Doll raised an eyebrow and frowned. "Alright, fine. We'll just say, I didn't mean to." She muttered into the tape recorder resting in the center of the table. "I didn't mean to rob six banks with Crocky-wuggles, and I didn't mean to kill five hostages..." Her voice suddenly switched to a childish mumble. "I'm sorry." She sat back in her chair, grinning.

Harleen raised a single brow, making a few notes and looking back up at Baby Doll. "And who exactly is Crocky-wuggles?" she asked. Bank robbery, murder of innocent bystanders...it was all so...plain.

"Killer Croc... my Crocky-wuggles. Sure, we botched the last job and he got a little upset... but, he shouldn't have been sneaking around behind Baby's back." She said in her childish voice. "Honestly... you don't know anything about anybody." She giggled lightly, resting her chin in her hands on the table. "You're lucky I'm so nice... the others might not be so nice to a newbie like you, Doctor."

Harleen pursed her lips. She knew plenty about everyone...everyone who was important. Unfortunately for miss Baby Doll, she just wasn't iconic enough to grab Harleen's attention. She was a petty bank robber with a taste for violence, so it seemed. One with a horrible habit of acting much younger than her actual age. She was what, forty? Harleen got up from the table, clipboard in hand.

"That'll be all for today, Miss Doll." she said.

Harleen stood and headed to the door."Be careful, doctor..." Harleen looked back when her voice switched back to the mature lady.

"If you let us in, we'll break your mind in two. Tata love!" She waved, laughing cruelly. The metal door opened, and Harleen was led out by a guard who shut the door behind her.

No, this certainly wouldn't do. Not at all. Harleen threw the clipboard down on her desk, sitting back in her chair to think. This needed to be fixed, but how? She looked around the office for inspiration, eyes catching on a clock. Gee, it was late.

Going home wasn't an option... her mind was swimming and she'd just end up staying awake all night anyway. She took off her lab jacket and untucked her red dress shirt from her black skirt. She relaxed in her chair, tapping her nails on the table.

"They brought me here... they made me move from Metropolis to dark and dreary Gotham City because they wanted my expertise... and then they give me petty cases." She snorted, letting her voice slip back to its usual twang. "I'm a better doctor than any of 'em..." She grumbled as she removed her glasses.

She thought for a moment. Well, fine. If they were going to give her all these useless, boring cases, she'd just assign her patients herself. She stood and exited the room. Without bothering to go back and grab her jacket, she headed to the computer room.

Nobody stopped to speak to her as she went down the hall, bustling past the infirmary where her patient of interest was resting up. Everyone seemed too busy to chat, anyway. She got to the room filled with file cabinets and security monitors, and began to look busy.

She quietly went through the files, pretending for the security camera that she was sorting some of her personal files into the database. Meanwhile, she grabbed the file she'd been interested in. He was still injured but certainly capable of starting sessions. Harleen dropped her files on the floor, stomping her foot as if it were an accident; She'd also dropped Joker's file.

She quickly shuffled all the files up, and took the Joker's. She placed her other files in its place, and grinned as she left. She'd have some reading to do tonight, before her first session with public enemy number one.


	3. The Joker's Therapy

Surprisingly enough, Harleen had slept that night. Although she was far from well rested, having been up all night reading the entirety of the Joker's file, she had at least gotten some sort of nap somewhere in that time. She walked to the front desk and pulled out her I.D. and presented the Joker's folder, receiving a nod from the man at the desk and heading down towards the room where they'd be conversing. She bit her lip as her hand went to open the door, but didn't hesitate in the slightest to open it.

She froze when she saw him, sitting across the table from the door. His face was clean of paint, but the scars curving up from either sides of his mouth still gave chilling reminder of who he was. The file hadn't given her a real name, age or origin... nobody really knew anything about him... he'd told them multiple little lies that he said were true, but nobody knew if he even knew his name anymore. He grinned at her, eyebrow raised slightly. His arm was still in a sling, but other than that it was all cuts and bruises. She shivered when he spoke. "Doctor Harleen Quinnzel; I've heard your name around the infirmary quite a bit." He smirked. "Baby Doll wasn't enough for you?"

Harleen cleared her throat and sat down, placing the clipboard on the table in front of her. "I prefer not to gossip about other cases to my patients, Mister Joker." she told him. She paused for a moment, looking him over. He was certainly intimidating.

"Call me Mister J... No need for us to be formal." He pressed record on her tape recorder, since she'd forgotten to. He grinned when he saw he was obviously scaring the dainty woman.

She looked down at the clipboard. "I won't waste your time then…so tell me about Robin. He's why you're here, right?" she asked.

He leaned back in his chair. "Robin... Robin, Robin, Robin... doesn't ring a bell, Doctor Quinnzel." He popped the L at the end of her name with emphasis... her name certainly was interesting. "And I'm here, because I'm sane... everyone else, Batman, Doctor Leland..." He leaned in to smirk at her. "Even you... are insane. All I'm doing is proving to you all how crazy you are."

Harleen was silent for a moment, a bit stunned by his answer. She cleared her throat again and went on. "Mister...Joker, I don't believe you have the right to tell me who in this room is or isn't insane." She stared sternly at him, trying to keep her cool.

"Ooh, feisty; and on our first date... Well, Doctor, I'll be sure to keep in line from now on." He suddenly smiled a large, toothy smile and chuckled lightly.

"Robin is the boy you were accused of murdering, Mister Joker. Do you have anything to say about that?"

"Oh yes! The Boy Blunder; I remember now." He snapped his fingers, wincing slightly at the pain it brought to his broken arm.

"Care to tell me about that?"

"Well, I would like to let the record show that, I wasn't thinking through the whole 'beat robin to death with a crowbar' thing, but it ended up with a nice ring to it… I just regret that it sounded far too much like something Penguin would do…'crow'bar…robin… Still gets annoying, but it had a nice ring to it at the time."

Harleen was taken aback by his comment, and stared at him disgustedly for a moment. He narrowed his eyes at her. Nobody else had ever become so frazzled this early in a session before. He was making her think. She looked down at her clipboard and made a note, face tensed as she tried to keep The Joker from getting to her. "That doesn't answer my question as to why you did it, Mister Joker." she said.

"I tend not to linger on the whole 'why' thing... it just slows down the other W words... What, Where, When and Who? Why just doesn't have a place in my thoughts. In other words, there was a tied up Robin and a conveniently placed crowbar in my hands, so I did what anyone would do." There was a moment of chilling silence between them.

After a pause, Harleen looked once again at her clipboard. No, she hadn't been prepared for this. "I see...Well, Mister Joker...tell me about your life, then. All the when's, what's, where's, and whose. We don't have to talk about whys until later, if you like." She looked back up at him, placing an elbow on the table so she could cradle her chin in her hand.

The clown crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. "I don't want to talk about me, when I'm not myself." He motioned to his unpainted face. "If someone were to lend me their lipstick, I might be able to talk about myself." He reached his unbroken hand across the table. "Do we have a deal?" He asked, grinning. "I promise... do me this favor, and my life is an open book for the lovely Miss Harleen to read."

Harleen stared at his hand, quite concerned with the request. "You shouldn't define yourself by what you put on your face, Mister Joker." There was another silence, where he continued to grin at her. This conversation wasn't going anywhere unless she gave up her lip stick, was it? Well, if it meant she got to explore this case, then fine let him have it.

She reached into her lab coat pocket and pulled out her lip stick, handing it to him. He took it gingerly, and went to work on his battle paint. He spread it from the corner of his left scar, across his lips to the other side of his right scar.

"It's not your job to worry about what's on my face, Harleen Quinnzel. It's to focus on what little information you can pry out of my mind." He finished the jagged makeup-job and grinned, satisfied to feel like himself once more. He handed back the now dull lipstick. "Ask away, Doctor."

She looked at the frustratingly diminished stick of lip color in her hand and put it away, looking down at her clipboard for what felt like the umpteenth time, and then back to The Joker once more. "Alright, let's start with the basics. Your childhood."

"Abusive father; Well, unless you want the story I used last year, which was... the runaway orphan who joined a circus... Next!" He pointed at her, smiling cruelly.

Harleen stared at him, brow raised. "So which is it, the abusive father or the runway clown?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"That's for you to decide. I told you... my life is an open book, but I never said it was non-fiction." He said.

Harleen was taken aback a bit when he stopped the tape recorder. "Cut this Doctor act, Harleen... You aren't like the others; I can tell. And that uh, fake personality they give you in school..." He looked around and leaned closer to her. "It's not at all believable." He whispered before leaning back in his chair. "Now, I'm going to turn the recorder back on, because I just love these little press conferences...just keep in mind that I know this isn't you... Capeche?"

Harleen blinked at him, jaw dropped. "I-I...I don't know what you mean." she said, shaking her head defiantly. "We doctors act the way we do for a reason. A patient wouldn't understand it." she said, voice getting higher as she tried to defend her...doctoral honor? She wasn't sure.

He heard her voice slip when she first spoke, and when she finished, he grinned. "We'll see."

He flipped the recorder back on. "Well, when I was a teenager, my father kicked me out of the house... I started on drugs, and got involved with the wrong crowd..."

He loved to get every single one of his lies caught on tape, so nobody could know what was real... he was an amazing actor.

"One day, the boss called me into his office; bad tempered guy, who loved to show the younger guys like me whose boss." He pointed to his mouth. "One day I dropped a couple curses in front of him, and he was not very happy about it..." He paused, calming himself. "So, he cut this big, pretty smile on my face... so I'll never say anything, without a good humored smile."

Harleen's eyes were wide, staring straight at him. She coughed once and returned to her cold demeanor. "And how long did you know this man?" she asked, scribbling on her clipboard. She was highly tempted to simply start drawing all over it.

Joker hardly held back a laugh. She had held it together so well... he'd expected some great fumble. He silently clapped his hands to her, mouthing the word' Bravo.' He leaned back and sighed softly. "Oh, Doctor Quinnzel, today's session has brought about a surge of memories... Though I feel a lot better, I'm also drained from all the progress. Could we do this tomorrow, same time?" He asked in a hushed tone, though his face was deceptively cruel looking.

She looked up at him, confused. There was a moment of silence as she stared at him with a concerned expression before she put a final note on her clipboard and got up from her chair. "Of course, Mister Joker. You take all the time you need." she told him, avoiding having to look him in the eyes as she spun around to leave the room.

"On your toes, Doctor." He called in a sing song voice after her, grinning. "There are bats in every belfry." He chuckled softly before guards came and escorted him back to his cell.


	4. Turning Tables

Harleen leaned back in her chair, chuckling at her patient, lip stick sitting open at the corner of the table. It was almost completely gone now. "I see. And then what did you do?" she asked. She and The Joker were discussing one of his escapades, an escape from Arkham. She looked up at him and set down her clipboard.

"So the guard was coming this way, and I was trying to beat him down the hall, so when I turned the corner, the big yutz couldn't make the turn without slamming into a nurse. They both took a tumble, and landed on top of a burn patient." His laughter sounded through the room, and Harleen couldn't help but beam at it. This wasn't genuine laughter… it was something sinister, yet she couldn't pin point why it sounded like that.

They'd been having these sessions for months now, and he had revealed only small things to her like his age and that he'd grown up here in Gotham. It wasn't much, but it was more than anyone else had gotten out of him. It was becoming tiresome for her, but sometimes she liked to just be able to talk to someone, even if she couldn't be herself.

"And what happened to the patient?" she asked, actually concerned but not concerned enough to sound like it. But still, she was a doctor. Her face grew a bit more serious as she waited for an answer, elbow on the table and chin resting on the back of her hand.

"Dead... but, he provided a good laugh."

Harleen looked at him for a moment, blinking. She laughed. "That's unfortunate for him..." she muttered.

The Joker spun his chair sideways and rested his feet on the side of the table with a soft smile. "How long have we been having these sessions, Harleen?" He'd begun calling her by her first name.

"Oh, I'd say about...maybe two months? Three months at the most?" She then remembered there was a log of these sorts of things in his file. She looked down at her clipboard, flipping pages to the chart she was looking for. "Three months, one week, and four days." she said after a moment.

"Our three months, one week and four days Anniversary? And here I am without a present!" He said with feigned shock. He grinned and snapped his fingers, a single plastic flower appearing in his hand. "Oh wait, here it is." Harleen had seen him slip it from his cast a few minutes ago, but she didn't mention it... that'd ruin his chipper mood.

She giggled at him again, taking it. "Well, at least someone remembered. I didn't bring a thing." She picked up the lipstick on the corner of the table. "Unless this counts, anyways." she muttered, flicking it back down onto the table.

"It does. Thank you, by the way." He muttered, grinning. He looked at the tape recorder and smirked. It wasn't recording... on purpose, obviously. Surely Harleen didn't want these tapes getting out, considering relationships with patients were strictly off limits. "I wanted to ask you a few questions today... it's not fair that you should know things about me when I don't know a thing about you, Harleen."

Harleen stared at him for a moment, pursing her lips as she considered this. Her years of training had, naturally, warned against this. Patients weren't supposed to know about the doctor, it was the other way around. But her relationship with The Joker was hardly regulation anyways. "Ask away." Harleen said, leaning back in her chair again.

"Well, I'd ask about your marital status... but I don't think you have anyone in your life, besides me." He grinned. "First clue being no ring and second, you're so...dedicated to your work. I'd imagine any man would be driven insane not seeing his blushing bride every day." Joker leaned in and rested a gentle hand on her's. "But it's just a hunch... got anyone special in your life aside from your favorite patient?"

Harleen chuckled at first. Marriage? What a joke. There wasn't time for that. Her eyes widened when he touched her hand, and she moved back a bit. "Ah, I..." She was blushing, that she was sure of. "N-no one to speak of..." she muttered, finger twitching under The Joker's hand.

Her nervousness was picked up on by the Joker, and he heard that voice of her's falling. She was slipping, and he was causing it. He moved a thumb over her hand and smiled softly. "That's unfortunate..." He said in a hushed tone. His eyes were hooked to her's, and he was leaning across the table, hoping he could force her to drop her walls. "...You don't technically have to record what happens here."

Harleen blinked at him, removing her hand from his and shaking her head slightly. The Joker looked down, and pulled his hand back towards himself, though he didn't sit back down.

She gave him a nervous smile. "I know that. We haven't been recording these sessions for weeks." she muttered. Her voice was getting giggly again, higher pitched instead of the chilly tones she'd trained herself to emit from her vocal cords.

"Even after so long, you can't let me hear that beautiful voice of yours, Harleen?" He asked, nearly able to brush her forehead with his nose. "You can trust me."

She shrunk away from him, clipboard held up like a shield. "I-I...um...that's not...it's r-regulation..." But of course, she was already speaking in her normal voice rather than her work voice. This was getting out of hand. Perhaps she should switch patients again. It had been easy the first time, so it wouldn't be a huge deal to do it again...but then again, she had wanted more interesting patients. Anything else would probably be like a demotion.

She squeaked when he slammed his hand down on the table and sat back in his chair. He snarled in a voice she hadn't yet heard. "Screw regulation! Screw rules... You know they aren't worth shit to you, Harleen. You think I didn't figure it out? They'd never give a patient like me to a new doctor like you... not without a little rule breaking on your part."

She blinked at him. No, he couldn't know that! Was he really that familiar with Arkham rules and regulations? Actually...with how many times he'd supposedly been locked up, it wouldn't surprise her.

His face twisted, and his hand shot to his side. The Joker fell from his chair, grunting in what she assumed was real agony. "Damn it... they said my ribs were healed..." He wheezed, reaching a hand up for assistance. "Hit the panic button... get me a real doctor, god damn it!" He roared at the girl.

She watched him fall to the floor and rushed to his side and grabbing his hand. She tried to pull him up. "Just lie still. I'll call a doctor in just a second."

She squeaked as he shot up, hand pulled out of his cast and sling. It was very obviously healed, because he pressed a hand over her mouth, and held her close to him. She went cold as she felt a barrel press against the side of her head. He'd been hiding a pistol in his arm sling for who knows how long."Hit the panic button." He demanded in a harsh whisper.

He smiled when she made some sort of squealing noise, trying to get him to let go of her. Her hand was reaching towards the panic button. At this point she knew she'd bitten off more than she could chew. Maybe she should have just stuck with Baby Doll's case.

The guards just outside the soundproof room got the button's alarm, and rushed into the room. All four, one after the other, dropped dead from a single bullet each. Only one had been able to yell 'Halt' and by that point it was far too late. Joker held her in front of him like a shield and began walking, gun still plastered to the side of her blonde head.

Nobody dared come close when they saw he had her, and he made sure to keep her protecting him. He soon got to the elevator and released her, gun still pointed at the pretty doctor. "Open the elevator." He commanded, allowing her to raise one hand.

She turned to look at him, terrified at this point. Terrified and confused. Just moments ago they'd been having a nice conversation! Whimpering slightly, she nodded and pressed the button to open the elevator door. Her eyes stayed on the gun the entire time, and the finger that cradled the trigger.

The Joker shoved her shoulder, forcing her into the elevator. There was silence as the doors shut, and he pulled her close to him once more. He pressed the gun again to her, and whispered in her ear "Don't be scared." He cooed. "I won't hurt you... I just want to prove my point."

She looked up at him, trembling slightly. What point? What point could he possibly be trying to make here? She looked at the doors of the elevator as they opened the ding emitted ringing in her ears.

The few doctors who happened to be up there were swiftly shot. They exited the fire escape into the large parking structure. Harleen looked around, noticing it was night already. Time seemed to stop when you were down in the artificially lit underground, surrounded by crazies. Joker read the ID card that hung around her neck and went to her parking space. Her tiny blue car sat there, in all its inconspicuous get-away car glory. There'd be no way they could connect it to Joker, if they saw it on the road.

He shoved her into the back seat, but accidentally banged her forehead against the top of the car doing so. He saw she was dizzy, and simply threw her in, closed the door, and ran to the driver's seat.

She closed her eyes and raised a hand to her forehead, wincing. That was going to leave a rather large, unsightly bruise. She managed to get up after a second and look in the front seat. "W-where the hell are we going?" she asked urgently.

He ignored her question, and he looked back at her, hand open. "I'll need your keys..." He muttered quietly. To her surprise, he set the gun down on the floor with a smile. "Please."

"K-keys? ...Oh!" She felt around her pockets for her keys. She paused. "T-they're um...in my office..." she muttered, shrinking away from him. She was sure that was something he didn't want to hear.

He stared at her, face totally barren of expression. "Damn it, woman!" He snarled, hitting his forehead against the wheel and causing it to honk. He smirked, turning to her once more. His handcuffs were off in a second and instead around her wrists instead. "I'll be just a second babe." He sighed, looking down by the foot petals. Harleen couldn't tell what he was doing, exactly, but could tell it was damaging her car.

Harleen looked at the hand cuffs, sniffling a bit. Today wasn't a very good day at all. She tried to lean over and see the front seat of her car, wanting to at least watch as The Joker completely destroyed it. She'd spent a lot of money on this car!

He sat back up, green hair frazzled from sweat. The car roared to a start, and he grinned at his handy work. Soon, however, he became aware of her sniffling. "Don't start getting all emotional on me. Quit it." He grumbled, turning back around to put the car in gear. "Oh... almost forgot." He grabbed an odd perfume bottle out of his pants pocket. "Fragrance of dreamland." He chuckled, spritzing a bit at her. She coughed when the vile smelling stuff entered her lungs, and she immediately felt the effects of the knock-out gas. "Sweet dreams, Harleen."


	5. Harleen to Harley

Weeks; Two and a half to be exact. He hadn't seen or heard from Joker since his escape, and this was rare for someone who craved the constant attention of the public. This escape had been different, though. Joker had actually bothered to take a doctor as a hostage… one Harleen Quinnzel; Joker never took hostages, without making their death a public display of horror.

What was so special about the woman?

The Dark Knight perched high on the Wayne Industries tower, looking out over the city like a watchful gargoyle. Where could Joker go that he hadn't gone before? There were no hints. There was no ransom note. There was no big announcement about some scheme his insane mind had worked up… No punch line or joke. Why?

The rain beat down against his cowl, tiny droplets rolling off the pointed nose and down his chin. It reminded him of what Jason had said once.

_"It's not even waterpoof, Batman... how do you expect it to hold up against bullets?" _

The Dark Knight grit his teeth, the memory of the departed Robin putting a bad taste in his mouth. His mind was soon cleared of the thoughts when he heard Alfred speak up over the suit's earpiece.

"Master Bruce, a package has arrived for you."

"Can it wait, Alfred? I'm on watch… Joker is bound to make his move any time now."

"I'm afraid the package is his move, sir. Batgirl found it on her patrol. It's in a purple box and it's addressed to 'Batsy'. Shall I open it for you, master Bruce? Hello?"

There was no response; just the distant sound of the bat mobile's tires pealing out on the slick road.

Batman quickly entered the cave and parked in a rather crooked fashion, rushing up the steps. Much to his relief, Alfred hadn't opened the package yet.

"I assumed the sound of your burning the tires off of the Bat mobile meant to wait for you, sir."

Batman removed his cowl and carefully took the small box. He turned it over in his hands, feeling something loose on the inside. It sounded like a book or a video tape… something small, but heavy. He carefully opened it.

The tension in the room instantly left when nothing exploded and no joker toxin came leaking from the opened box; Just a small black cassette tape, with the words written in neat cursive on the label "Patient Harleen Quinnzel; 1st Session."

Bruce nodded to Alfred, who took the tape and placed it into the player. He hit play, and the two watched intently as the static turned to picture.

"Tell me your name." The joker demanded from behind the camera.

Harleen Quinnzel was easily seen in a chair. Not bound, not gagged, but clearly held in place by something. Probably fear. It seemed like fear.

"H-Harleen Quinnzel..." she muttered to the camera. She sounded about ready to burst into tears...or scream. It was hard to tell which.

"Harleen?" He questioned in a sing song voice. "Harleen Quinnzel? We'll see..." His tone dropped to a deadly rasp before leveling out.

He held up a piece of paper in front of the camera that read 'Patient Harleen Quinnzel: Session 1'. He gave a very quiet giggle and went back to speaking to the crying girl. "So, let's talk about why you think you're here... Do you know, Miss Quinnzel?" He popped the L at the end.

Harleen shrunk away as The Joker moved closer to her. She swallowed the deep fear that tingled through her body and forced her voice into a high pitched cry. "N-no...I don't know..."

He paused for a moment, furrowed his brows and got down on one knee beside her chair to be eye level with her. "Well, I guess I'll have to remind you. Rehabilitation can't happen unless the patient understands what they've done wrong."

He snatched her glasses from her face, placing them on the table in front of her. "Much better; Now, are you sure you can't give me a reason why you need these sessions?"

Harleen leaned back further, gripping the edge of the chair. She shook her head, biting her lip and making a strange whimpering noise. What the hell was he talking about? He was the patient, she was the doctor! This shouldn't be happening.

"Well I'll tell you what you've done to earn my ah, 'help' as you doctors jokingly call it." He drew close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her ear. "Which, by the way, is not very pleasant, is it?" Before receiving an answer, he pulled away and got back down on one knee.

"Look at me." He said quietly.

She didn't comply until he spoke again in that hateful rasp.

"Look. At. Me."

She took a good long moment before she could turn her face to him. Tears were streaming from her eyes, which were now red from her fearful sobbing. She blinked up at him.

"See this, is what reality has done to me." He motioned to his scars. "In a perfect world, everyone could be crazy… but some of us aren't. No; some of us, are forced to see this ugly reality for what it is… See a crazy person, usually can't tell if they're crazy… And a sane person can't tell if they're sane, even though they want to believe it so much, that they block out all the things that make sense."

He ran a finger under her chin, and looked her in the pretty blue eyes. She flinched when his finger touched her chin, leaning even further away from him.

"I make sense to you… that's why you're the only person I can help. You're almost as sane as me; you just need a little push."

She opened her mouth as if to protest to what he was saying, fingers trembling on the edge of the chair. Just as sane as him? He wasn't sane! He was a raving lunatic! Did he mean to say she was too? No. That was a lie. She couldn't be. She was a doctor, for Heaven's sake! She looked away when he gave her a smirk.

The camera gave a beep, signaling the end of the tape… neither of them paid any attention.

"You know, you remind me of a poster I had when I was eight."

She looked back at him out of the corners of her eyes. He really was a raving lunatic. That comment had come out of practically nowhere...and who had posters of crying women on their walls?

"What poster?" she asked voice raspy.

"It was a poster of a circus I went to see with the old man... there was a little Harlequin clown, all dressed in her jester costume... She was, by all standards, attractive." He waggled a finger at her. "But, the patterns on her suit were so intricate and tricky..." He eyed her closely and continued.

"Utterly beautiful, yet unfathomably complex." He paused momentarily, looking her up and down. He soon moved on.

"And your name... Harleen Quinnzel... It sounds so much like Harlequin... Even a stern, professional lady like yourself, can't deny that it's not just coincidence that we're so similar... You, a jester and me...a clown."

She seemed unsure whether or not to take that as a compliment. Best to not be vain and assume it meant nothing. She almost chuckled at the comment of her name. "Harley Quinn? I know...I've heard it before." she whispered, barely cracking a smirk. She turned away when he compared them. She was no jester. Not in the slightest.

"See? It fits you." He whispered.

The silence went on for a moment, before the Joker snarled and stood up in frustration. He stepped away from her.

"See? You smile and giggle and laugh... You do everything I'd expect from someone with your personality... and then, you go and try to revert back to that dull, and pointless doctor who asked me 'Why?'" He grabbed her wrist. "What's it gonna take, for you to see, how very special you are?"

A small gasp was emitted when he yanked her upright by the wrist. She stared at him for a minute, not replying to anything he said. She made noises as if to speak, but didn't actually let words flow from her lips. After a moment, she stuttered out, "S-special...?"

She flinched when he shoved her against the wall. He pulled out a playing card, and held it up. It was a 2 of hearts. "Harleen Quinnzel, is a random card from the deck; and she, was shuffled in with all the other number cards. Bills, Toms, Mary's and Kathy's." After each name, he threw a random number card at her. "They're all, pointless. The only cards that matter are face cards... See? The Dark Knight." He held up a king of spades before ripping it in two. "Doctor Arkham." He held up a Jack of clubs and tossed it aside. "Even out dearest White Knight, Harvey Dent who, because of me, is now known as Two Face is shuffled in with the big cards." He held up a finger. "But... you and I, Harley Quinn, fall in line with a certain card... every deck has them, and they're cast out because nobody plays poker with us." He pulled a card from his deck, and held it up. It was a Joker. "We are the card that everyone throws out, but gets in every deck."

Harleen squirmed and stammered only slightly."I don't think I fall under a category so frivolous." she muttered. She was almost entirely free of her fear now. It was beginning to be replaced by both confusion and frustration, stopping up her tears and making it easier to speak back to him.

"...You're a little girl playing dress up, Harley." He muttered, resting his hands flat against the wall on either side of her shoulders. "But it's time to take off the doctor costume..." He ran a finger across her cheek. "It's not hard... just let go; Have a laugh."

Harleen shifted her eyes up to his own, smirking at him. "Not much to laugh about when a psycho has you pinned to a wall now is there, Mister Joker?" she asked quietly, almost teasing him. She still flinched slightly at his touch, unable to be completely comfortable due to obvious reasons, but it was clear that she was suddenly very much more acceptable of the conversation at hand.

Her fear returned, however, when she felt the sharp pain across her face. He'd back handed her. She slid down the wall, holding the painful mark on her cheek and looking up at him. The tears fell once more, stinging the right side of her face as they fell. His expression was hard and stern, but soon fell to what she assumed was a concerned face. It was as if he hadn't even meant to hit her... like he didn't remember doing it. He crouched down and sat against the wall, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his lap to cradle her head, as if he were comforting a child. "Harley, Harley, Harley... didn't I tell you when we met, that I didn't want you to call me 'mister joker'?"

She sniffed and looked up at him. Mood swings. She couldn't help by try to analyze them. Unfortunately, her brain was too muddled to make heads or tails of anything at all. The only thing that it registered was that he was suddenly concerned for her. She allowed him to cradle her. Her tears made tiny dots on his purple tuxedo jacket. She gave a short nod.

"That's a good girl..." He sighed, rocking her gently for what seemed eternity. An eternity that some part of her never wanted to end. "You're so special, my harlequin." His voice was hushed, and more human than anything she'd ever heard in her life. "You just have to let go... I had to let go, once... And once you do... there's no going back." He tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes. "And this is the point, Harley-girl. Letting go, means falling... but, it also means freedom. You hold the key to your shackles... you just need someone to catch you during the fall."

She blinked up at him, not sure what to think of what he was saying. Was he even being serious? Of course he was being serious. His tone of voice held no hints of deceit, from what she could tell. Poor girl. Even with her training, she was oblivious. She smiled for a moment. Letting go? Letting go of her career? Everything she worked for in life? It seemed an awful waste...and still she cracked a smile.

He gave a loud 'Ha' of amusement, brushing the hair out of her face. "There's that smile... now where's her laugh, hm?" He asked, eyeing her closely. "I bet you have a beautiful laugh... so many take theirs' for granted." He pulled her close to him, a gentle yet firm hand resting on the side of her jaw line.

He began to make a noise; she couldn't tell what it was at first... she hadn't heard it in so long... It was a genuine laugh... short, singular 'ha's at first, then drawn out cackles. His chest rose and fell with each one, head thrown back now. "Ah, Harley-girl... laugh a little, doll."

She watched him continue to giggle and chortle, his face distorting one way or another depending on the type of laughter he emitted. It was highly amusing...and his laughter was oddly contagious. She gave a small giggle, quiet as could possibly be, and let it steadily grow louder. Moments later she joined him in a fit of laughter, ringing through the room and echoing off the walls. Her laugh was high pitched, rapid, quite unlike the character she took on in the asylum.

In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but feel the laughing, for her, was like crying. It all came out in heavy swells and gave so much more emotion than useless tears. There was no joy to her laughing… just some odd reason why she felt like she needed it. The high it brought her felt good.

This went on until Harley's jaw hurt and tears were streaming down her grinning face and her laughter died down. He soon followed, and returned to a calm smile. "...wasn't so bad, was it?" For some reason he couldn't explain, he felt the need to sit back and smoke, as if their laughing together had been intimate, like intercourse only... less, fleshy... He shuddered inwardly, and grinned. "Pumpkin-pie, you sound the part... you act the part..." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out two tiny tubes of face paint. One black, one white. They'd obviously been used quite a bit, but there was enough in them. "Now it's time to look the part, my little Harley Quinn. The world's full of sad things but, when you look at things my way you can always find a way to ignore them." He placed the paint and her red lipstick in her palm, and curled her hand up. "Put on a Happy Face."

Harley chuckled as she took the makeup. Harley...it did suit her. She opened the tube of lipstick, rotating the case until it was tall enough to use. "Whatever you say Mistah... J."


	6. First Date

These people were unbearable. Darren Price crossed his arms and glared off into the Gotham skyline. It glittered with the thousands of lights from the multiple apartments, office buildings and clubs that were lucky enough to be this high end. He didn't fit in here. Everyone knew what year the champagne was, what the stocks were going to do in the near future, but not a single one of these people gave a damn about anything else. This party was for people like Bruce Wayne (who for whatever reason had decided not to show his playboy mug) and other millionaires.

Darren was only here because Harleen had been friends with some of these people and though Darren had forgotten practically all of their names after the break up, they had for whatever reason remembered him and invited him along.

Of course, refusing their offer would be impolite. And thus he was stuck here. Alone; without any friends. No Harleen, no good company...just boring, snobby rich people. Harleen had broken up with him, yet these people still longed to see him? Stupid woman... But no, he wouldn't think of her. He wouldn't think of how much he hated her at times for breaking up with him, because hate was a form of caring. And he simply did not care.

As he stared into his glass, he noticed it was shaking. He soon became aware that everyone became silent, and a rumbling began from the left wall. The large ballroom was soon filled with screams and crashing as the wall crumbled downward.

_"Like a waterfall..."_

Darren dusted his jacket off and stood up. He coughed, stumbling through the dust filled room. Everyone collectively became loud once more, as a figure approached the gaping hole in the wall.

This man had been seen countless times by the public, and not in the good way that Bruce Wayne had been. He walked quietly across the bits of glass and wall scattered about the dance floor.

"Was the explosion too flashy? Usually I like a big entrance, but it seemed a little cliche. Every performance must be made memorable." The Joker sighed to himself. Darren stood completely still in the deadly silence.

A high pitched giggle sounded from behind him, and a woman leapt through the hole to join the man's side.

"Oh, Puddin', what does it matter if they're not gonna' be able to remember, hmm?" She pulled out an oversized bazooka, and showed her bright white teeth in a wide smile.

However, her peripheral vision caught on a mister Darren Price. She gave a tiny glare, but smiled back to Joker.

"Hold the gun there, baby-girl. We can't draw too much attention yet." The crowd stared at them in horror, shaking and whispering amongst themselves.

Darren was with them, but he said nothing. Who was that woman? Joker was known to work alone, or with those ridiculous henchmen who only wore masks. This black and red jester girl was sticking to him like glue. Darren had managed to screw things up with his girlfriend, but a maniac like the joker could get himself a lady? What a world.

"I'm sure you know me, Ladies and Gentlemen."

The purple clad clown strolled to the center of the room, cracking his gloved fingers.

"And I'm sure you expect ME to do something drastic." He paused briefly.

"But, this is my Harley-girl's night... and you're all her's to do with as she pleases." The crowd didn't know whether to sigh or scream when the Joker strolled back to the woman and pressed his red lips to her's. After the long moment, he pulled away and grinned at her.

"What'll it be, toots? Robbery, murder, ransom?"

Harley Quinn giggled at his kiss. The Joker wasn't usually this affectionate, but she wasn't complaining.

She looked around the room, bright blue eyes once again landing on Darren. "How about a kidnappin', Mistah J?" she asked, resting both hands on his shoulder and looking up at him pleadingly. "That sounds pretty fun."

This seemed to bring a smile to the Joker's scarred face. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close enough to kiss her forehead, but he didn't. Instead,"_You're doing beautifully, Harley_." He purred, before shoving her towards the crowd with a maniacal laugh. "Take your pick, doll!"

Harley stuck her tongue out at the 'thinking angle', making little hmm noises as she pretended to make a decision. Not that she really needed the time to figure it out. But why not give them some suspense, hmm? Eventually, she pointed a finger at the one and only Darren Price. "Look mistah J!" she said, looking over her shoulder at the Joker. "I want that one."

Darren's heart sank to his stomach, and for reasons he couldn't explain, he couldn't force his legs to move. The Joker walked up beside her and studied him.

"Ladis choice. Gift wrap him, boys." He motioned to three or four masked henchmen.

They rushed Darren and grabbed at his arms, readying a brown bag to place over his head. The handsome man struggled, kicking and punching. This went on for a moment, before a gunshot made him freeze. Darren felt the intense pain in his right knee, and he cried out in agony. The joker had pulled a gun and shot his knee-cap, grinning coolly.

Harley shivered and giggled at the sound of the gunshot and Darren's scream. "Oooh be careful with my new toy! Don't break him too much." She trilled to the henchmen. She watched her Puddin' stroll past her and grasp Darren's hair, tilting his head back to look him in the eyes.

"Don't struggle and you might make Harley-girl merciful."

The jester girl threw her head back and laughed insanely as the Joker mentioned mercy. "Mercy is just a joke, Mistah' J."

"Too true, Harley." Joker sighed. He grinned as she clung to his shoulder."Well folks, it's been a riot." He motioned for his henchmen to drag the hostage to the waiting car downstairs and outside.

"I'm sure someone's made a 911 call in this time... not that it matters." The Joker slung his arm over Harley's shoulder, drawing her close to his side. "Oh, and when the Batman shows up, tell him..." He stopped and thought. "Tell him Robin and I had a blast."

Harley Quinn waved and flashed a grin at the crowd over her shoulder. "Bye bye. You've been a great audience." she said, chuckling insanely as she and the Joker followed the henchmen to the car. She leapt right over the door without opening it and sat in the shot gun seat.

"I'd say that went pretty well, wouldn'tcha' Mistah J?" she asked, clasping her hands together and resting her chin on them.

Joker was hardly paying attention to her, as he was more concerned with not getting spotted by the bat. His eyes were set upward, and he was instructing the henchmen to move quickly. They shoved the still struggling Darren into the trunk and got into the back seat.

Joker leaned his head into the car, eyeing Harley. "I don't usually drive, Harley. But, since tonight IS my little Harley Quinn's first night out..." He circled the car and got into the driver's side. "I'll drive us home."

"Home… Aw, Mistah J." Harley cooed as she swayed with a happy smile. It was nice to think she was going home with someone; Their home. It was a nice thought.

The car sped off into the night, mingled with the rest of the traffic in Gotham. Batman had arrived just a bit too late, and didn't see them pull away. He glared down at the ballroom window, and began down the building to investigate.


	7. The Last Session

Boots crunched down over the rubble as Gordon examined the giant hole in the wall. That wouldn't be a cheap fix, especially not with the material the room was made of. Jim Gordon moved on, searching for damage around the rest of the room, or evidence. Not that he was sure he needed evidence. It had been confirmed by multiple witnesses that this was the Joker's doing.

"Do you ever get used to seeing the destruction, Jim?" The commissioner turned quickly, eyes widened in slight surprise at the voice.

Gordon turned around at the voice, grunting. "It's just tedious to clean up." he muttered grimly. "What's more important is he's got a little pet now, and she took a hostage."

The Batman was silent for a moment, pondering. His face never changed, but one could tell he was confused. "Joker's not the social type... You're sure she was connected with the Joker?" He knew the Joker best... and he knew The Joker wouldn't tolerate anyone getting in his way, particularly a woman.

Gordon shook his head. "Witnesses say she was clinging pretty close to him…"Gordon raised an eyebrow at Batman as he tapped a small communicator on the side of his cowl. He looked at Gordon, and wandered off a bit so the commissioner wouldn't hear. "What is it?" He asked in a hushed tone.

The Joker has left you another package, Master Bruce. I assume I should leave it until you get back." Alfred's voice said through the cowl's earpiece.

"On my way." He snarled before turning back to Jim. "Something's come up... I'll check back with you if I get anything about Joker's hostages."

A quick nod from the man and Batman made his way back to the cave, grabbing the video tape Alfred was expectantly holding out on his way inside.

He inserted the tape and allowed it to buffer.

Someone was adjusting the camera, but not Joker this time. A woman, most likely the woman Gordon had mentioned earlier. "Am I doin' it right, Puddin'?" she asked someone off camera.

The focus of the video was a man tied to a chair. He had a deep gash across his forehead and his mouth was covered by silver duct tape. Joker's purple coat moved into view, the camera angle not allowing the viewer to see his face. A grumble of irritation sounded.

"The camera's too low. Point it up a bit. Is the little red light on?" There was static for a moment as the tape had been edited (obviously the Joker's ego too big to allow minor mistakes like this). The tape soon started again. "Hello Batman. It's been so long since we could speak face to monitor." He chuckled softly. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering about the hostages I've taken over the past few weeks... well, only two of them, really. As you can see, both are safe. Mr. Darren is right here and the lovely Doctor as well."

The woman, clad in a black and red jumpsuit, wiggled her fingers at the camera and grinned. "I wouldn't consider myself much of a hostage anymore." she said after a moment of thinking, putting her hands on her hips and looked at Darren. "You on the other hand..." Her voice was mainly just muttering in the background, but definitely present.

Darren mumbled behind the duct tape and squirmed. Joker raised an eyebrow and looked at the camera. "Look folks! I think he wants to say something. Harley? Care to hear what the idiot has to say?" Darren looked up at the woman, eyes pleading.

Harley tilted her head, seeming to think about it for a moment as she shifted her weight from hip to hip. "I suppose." she finally said, ripping the tape off Darren's mouth with as much force as she could muster. "Well, got anything to say for yourself?" she asked.

Joker stepped out of frame, grinning at the scene before him. This was just delicious; Sure to give old Bats a shiver or two. The man gasped for a breath, and looked up at his ex-girlfriend gone goofy.

"Harleen! What are you doing?" He asked, eyeing her in both concern and fear. "Please, Harleen, just untie me and I can help you... please? God, what did you do to Harleen, you bastard!"

Without even glancing back at him, Harley Quinn slapped the same piece of duct tape messily onto his face. "Not what I wanted to hear." she muttered in a sing song voice. "Can I hit him now, Mistah J?" she asked, smiling a wide, excited sort of smile at the maniacal man before her.

"Now Harley... He doesn't even know his purpose here yet! Remember, precious, it's all about making a point… giving the people at home a show… right?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and delivering a rough kiss to the cheek. "You can bust him open in just a little bit, I promise."

Harley stuck out her bottom lip, pouting up at him. "Oh fine." She removed the duct tape again. "You're lucky Mistah J is so merciful." she told him matter of factly, standing back and fiddling with the tape.

"Everyone thinks you're missing or dead, Harleen! Everyone's been looking everywhere for you and this crazed bastard… and you're working with him." Darren shot the Joker a glare and returned to speaking to the woman. "I know I wasn't the ideal boyfriend… or fiancé. I know I screwed up and I should have accepted you for… you… But Harleen please, you can't just kill anyone who doesn't-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What?" Joker stepped forward and looked between them with a confused eyebrow cocked up. "…You two were gonna get hitched?" When he received no answer, he began to laugh slowly, at first, until it rose to long and drawn out cackles. "That's a riot! You've gotta be joking." He found it hard to speak between bouts of laughter. He got up close to Darren and sneered in his face. "Guess you didn't know about this other side of your bride to be, huh?"

Darren glared at the Joker and then at Harley. He didn't speak; He only looked away at the floor with a deepening scowl.

Joker grabbed Darren's jaw and turned him to look at him once more. "Guess you kinda had this coming ol' pal."

Darren nearly spoke again before tape was pressed back over Darren's mouth.

"Hey, slugger, where's your baseball bat?" Joker turned to ask Harley.

Harleen jumping up and down, squealing giddily. "Oooh I'll go get it!" she said, rushing off and returning moments later with a heavy metal bat. "Do I get to carve his smile too?" she asked childishly.

" Absolutely, my baby-girl... just make sure the camera can see everything. We can't have Batman missing a moment of this." Joker leaned in to the camera as Harley got ready over by Darren. "Don't blink, Batsy." The Joker laughed, and went over to stand on the opposite side of Darren, making sure to stay mostly out of frame. "Pinata time, Harley girl. Bust his brains out, see if there's any candy in there."

Harley, baseball bat held high and mighty above her shoulder, gave the Joker an eager nod. "Whatever you say, Mistah J!"

Two seconds later and the horrid sound of metal connecting with human skin and bone rang through the room. Over ...and over ...and over again. Harley Quinn seemed to be taking a sick amount of enjoyment in this act, too. Smiling and even giggling giddily at the mess she was making. When she was done with the bat, she stepped back to survey her own handiwork. "Whaddya' think?" she asked.

Joker laughed maniacally through the whole scene, clapping and clutching his middle. "Way to go, Harley-girl!"

He got such enjoyment out of this, because he'd proven his point. It didn't matter if he got thrown back in Arkham. It didn't matter if he died. He could, and would, always end up making people just like him through his influence and simple presence. He'd done nothing but speak a little nonsense to Harley, and look how she'd turned out. He'd always win, even if he died in the process. Joker eventually stopped laughing and eyed his blood soaked jester. Her makeup was running slightly, but it only added to that maniacal look he found so alluring. He pulled her close and kissed her, snaking his hands down her fragile black and red frame.

The video cut, and returned with the image of a rather frazzled looking couple of clowns (whose clothes had obviously been thrown back on quickly) and a beaten dead body with a hideous bleeding smile plastered on its face. The three were lying on the table, faces turned to the camera for a close up.

"Tell the people of Gotham your name, baby-girl." Joker chuckled, holding Darren's body so it looked like it was alive. He made it wave its hand as a 'hello'.

Harley giggled, playing with the hair on the top of Darren's head. It was all messy, and that just wouldn't do! He had to look good for the camera. She grabbed at Darren's slack jaw, and moved it up and down to mouth along as she said in her beautiful and deadly voice "Harley. Harley Quinn."


End file.
